


Lights On

by vesper_house



Series: Before Dawn [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DCU (Movies), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Clark, Clark uses x-ray vision to do WHAT???, Daddy Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Top Bruce, Virginity Kink, or is it feelings with porn?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6293953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesper_house/pseuds/vesper_house
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beginning of the weekend in Gotham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights On

**Author's Note:**

> In which they are so cute I wanna punch them in the face. And then they fuck like porn stars. 
> 
> This turned out to be a lot more filthy than I originally intended. I honestly have no idea what the hell happened, these two just write themselves however they please.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you will enjoy it!

On Monday morning, Clark receives an unexpected package. Inside he finds a sleek, black smartphone without any visible logo and a card:

_All calls and messages are provided by Wayne Tech private server. Data is encrypted._

At first, Clark does know what to think of the gift. Of course excitement takes the lead, but it leaves a bitter aftertaste. Now he is someone’s dirty secret. Admittedly, it is kind of sexy… At the same time the burden of yet another lie falls heavily on Clark’s soul. He prefers when things are simpler. _But I want him,_ Clark muses, remembering strong arms and bruising kisses, _I’m not ready to stop wanting him._

There is only one number saved on the contact list.

_Does it mean you have an access to your employees’ dick pics? That’s lewd. – C._

The phone buzzes when Clark is already at the Daily Planet.  

 _Don’t get any ideas. No dirty pictures. My phone gets hacked almost every three months._ – _B._

_What do they do at Wayne Tech then? Are they busy watching amateur porn? – C._

_I don’t have time for texting. – B._

Clark freezes. Okay then. He does not want to end up as the needy one. And really, they could probably never be that kind of couple.

 _Are we even a couple?_ Bruce does not seem like the kind of person who would reveal to the world that he is dating a man. Come to think of it, neither is Clark – especially since it would bring public attention to the parts of his life he desperately wants to keep in private. Everything that happens between them should remain a secret.

And all they have is sex. Amazing, hot, mind-altering, illicit sex. The only time when he does not feel the pressure of living the life he chose. Clark needs a break. Superman needs a break, too. Bruce Wayne can be their break, even if a real relationship is not an option. Clark is an adult. He can handle this… arrangement.

“Smallville, am I about to go through another week of you acting like you’re sleepwalking the whole time?” Lois asks a bit harshly.

“No,” Clark answers, voice firm. “I’m all good.”

\---

It is barely past five in the morning when the phone rings. Clark looks at it in confusion. Bruce is definitely not a morning person: why would he call on such an ungodly hour? The screen informs him about a video call incoming. Clark’s eyebrows go up a little. He clicks on the green icon, not sure why is there a lump in his throat.

“Hey there,” Clark says when Bruce’s face shows up.

“Hi.” It looks like Bruce is in his bed. Truth be told, he looks exhausted. The lines on his handsome face seems deeper, circles under the eyes darker. He does not look directly at Clark. At the same time, Clark’s heart makes the tiniest, softest backflip at the sound of Bruce’s voice.

“Why are you awake? You look tired,” he asks.

“I can’t sleep,” Bruce says. “I was working late. Got to bed only about an hour ago but I…” He sighs. “I’m too tired to fall asleep… If that makes sense.”

 “I get it,” Clark ensures. For a long moment no one says anything. “What were you working on?”

Another deep sigh.

“Can’t tell you. Confidential.”

“I’m not interested in corporate espionage.”

“That’s not the point.”

Tensed silence. Clark tries to read Bruce and gets nothing. The moment feels so fragile that he is too scared to do anything. Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose like he is suffering from a headache.

“Well, is there anything I can do?...” Clark asks hesitantly.

“I don’t know… Just…” Bruce rubs his face. “Talk to me... About anything. I’m all ears.”

“Uhmm, let’s see…” Clark tries to think of what to say without giving away any hints about his double life. “…That gas leak incident? I’m still working on that. Turns out the owner of the company is nowhere to be found, along with nearly half a million dollars. So things are getting interesting I guess. Of course that’s not enough for my boss…” Yesterday he had another fight with Perry about how much time he spends outside of the office. “I… I’m thinking about going back to freelancing. Especially after today… And every time I get treated like a copyboy. Maybe… I wasn’t made for…” _this world,_ “a full-time employment…”  Now it is his turn to sigh. “Sometimes… I feel that I’m not living up to my true potential. There’s so much more I could do. I could always work harder. I know I’m doing a pretty good job as it is but… it’s not enough. And it will never be enough, because… I can’t be everywhere. No matter what I do, there always comes a point when I run into a wall.”

“What would you do?” Bruce asks.

“Pardon?”

“If you stopped working as a reporter. What else would you like to do?”

“I don’t know... I miss living on a farm. But I do love my job. One day I would like to write a novel… Or maybe a script. Hey… That would be pretty sweet actually. I mean, screw Pulitzer – I will go to Hollywood and win an Oscar...”

“Don’t go to Hollywood,” Bruce interrupts.

“Why not?”

“Are you kidding me? Even _I_ don’t mess with the people from Hollywood. A boy scout from Kansas? Please… They would eat you alive.”

“When you say _eat you alive…”_

“Not what you’re thinking, naughty boy.”

“Look who’s talking. You’re the one who spoiled me.” Clark realizes he is grinning like an idiot. Bruce seems to have that effect on him.

“I am starting to see the error of my ways.” If Clark looks closely, he can see the spark in Bruce’s eyes coming back to life.

“Is that the real reason why you called me?”

“No. I just wanted to see you smile.”

Clark really wants to respond with _I miss you too._

“…About what we have talked about,” he asks instead, “do you still want me to come to Gotham?”

“Yes. I will send someone to pick you up from the ferry on Saturday morning. Don’t bother with the hotel.”

“Okay.”

Clark can feel the heavy weight of everything left unsaid piling up in his chest, slowly reaching his throat and threatening to spill out from his mouth.

“I think I’m gonna try to sleep now.” Bruce says, looking at Clark through drooping eyelids. “Have a nice day, Clark.”

“Goodnight, Bruce.” The screen goes blank.

Clark presses one of the pillows to his face, screams quietly and then giggles like a schoolgirl.

\---

Later that day, Clark is at the Planet, being unproductive as hell. He has been staring at his coffee for about five minutes now, thinking about the last time he went to that particular coffee shop. The place has a pretty unique, sun shaped logo. He wonders if Bruce remembers that detail.

Maybe he is reckless, or stupid, or craves to be held like a lover – whatever the reason, Clark takes a photo of the cup and sends it before he can talk himself out of it. Neither a text nor a dirty picture... Technically speaking.

The worst case scenario – he will make a fool of himself. The best – he will make Bruce smile. Does not matter if it just one of those snide, barely-there smirks.

It is not until late in the afternoon when he finally gets a response. At first he is not even sure what is in the picture. When the realization hits, he blushes a little. Turns out it is a cupboard filled with neatly organized, colorful ties. In the middle there is the one that was used to bind his wrists last Friday night.

Clark grins a little and decides to continue the game. This time he sends a photo of his glasses – fixed, shiny, completely innocent to any random observer. When Bruce does not reply immediately, Clark flings himself into work. Thanks to his responsibilities, he pretty much forgets about the whole thing. Yet there is a new message waiting for him the following morning: it is a notably symmetrical shot of Bruce’s belt buckle. Clark knows that belt very well indeed.

Arousal grows low in his abdomen and he briefly entertains the idea of breaking the rules, but resists the temptation. _In the end, isn’t desire better when you yearn for it?,_ Clark muses as he lays in bed. Regardless of Bruce’s offer, he repaired it himself: growing up on a farm thought him to respect the things he owned instead of throwing everything away the minute it got broken. He gets up and takes a photo of the messy bed. The lightning is almost identical to that from the last Saturday morning. To his delight, Bruce responds about ten minutes later with a picture of his bed, or so Clark assumes. In contrast to his plain, beige sheets, Bruce’s bedding is lush and has the color of storm clouds.

_Can’t sleep again? – C._

_Just got back from a party. – B._

A party. Probably one of those pointless, pompous gatherings, similar to that time they have… met… and… Clark does not dare to finish the thought. The phone buzzes in his hand again.

_I can almost feel you frowning. No, I didn’t bring anyone home. – B._

_Good. I’m leaving Metropolis on Saturday at 9 AM. Brace yourself. – C._

_Can’t wait. I’m going to sleep. Think of me in the shower. – B._

Bruce was wrong about one thing: Clark did not get off in the shower. He did it in bed, chasing the faintest smell of musk and cinnamon still present between the cotton fibers of the pillow. Saturday could not come soon enough.

\---

“So how’s it going between you two?” Lois asks out of nowhere. It is Friday morning and they are alone in an elevator.

“What?” Clark is pretty sure that he is about to have a heart attack.

“Don’t insult me, Smallville. You know damn well what I do for a living.” Lois says with a knowing smile. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but I hope it’s not because suddenly we’re not friends anymore. You know I want you to be happy.”

“Wait, how did you…”

“I have two eyeballs and a brain,” Lois gives him a pointed look. “And that fancy new phone you carry everywhere like a holy medallion? Very subtle. I sincerely hope it’s not because she’s married and needs to have a secret booty call line.”

 _Oh thank goodness,_ Clark thinks as relief washes over him. Lois knows but does not really _know._ The elevator stops at their floor.

“No, no, no,” Clark says as the door open. He can sense that lying is not really an option… yet he does not have to tell the whole truth. “Nothing like that. It’s just…” he is lost for words for a moment, “…a delicate matter, alright?”

“I wouldn’t imagine it any other way with you,” Lois says and gets to her desk. “Just know that I’m here for you if you want to talk. And if you prefer to keep it on the down low, stop smiling like a moron. You’ve been acting so weird these past few weeks because of her, correct?”

“Sort of...” Clark says quietly. “I’m not sure what are we.”

“Well, I’m guessing you’ve just met her?...”

…rough kisses, strong, masculine body looming over his, stubble burn, hard touches, smell of cooling cum, bites, moans, screams, pushes, blows, hotel room, public restroom, kitchen floor, bed, bathroom, more, more…

“Yeah, it’s uuh, a new thing.”

“Clark,” she does not need a heat vision in order to pierce through his skull, “what does it mean if you’ve thought about a person every day since you met?”

Clark decides to ignore the question, so he rolls his eyes and moves away.

“You got it bad” Lois whispers, adding some extra a’s to the last word.  

\---

November 21st

There is a man in a driver’s uniform waiting at the Gotham docks, holding a card with Clark’s last name on it. It is _weird._ “Good morning. Right this way, sir.” Clark follows him to the parking lot and tries not to raise his eyebrows when he sees a lustrous black Rolls Royce. He has to talk to Bruce about subtlety.

They ride in complete silence. Clark is grateful and anxious at the same time. Just how many of Wayne’s lovers have been tucked into this beautiful car? After what feels like an eternity, they stop in front of an elegant terraced house. Clark’s mouth goes dry as he gets out on the street.

“I’ve been instructed to tell you that the front door is open. Have a good day, sir.” The driver salutes him with his hat and gets back behind the wheel. “Thanks. Bye.” Clark says and looks around. The street is quiet and pristine clean: this is, without a doubt, an exclusive neighborhood. He presses the knob with some kind of hesitancy. How many men and women walked through this door in their best outfits, handling bottles of expensive champagne…

“Clark!” A shout emerges from the living room. “Don’t just stand there, come in already.”

The way Bruce says his name awakens butterflies in Clark’s stomach. All at once, everything is fine. He drops his duffel bag in the hallway and nearly floats towards the man.

“Hi,” Wayne says with a smirk that would be described as cheerful on someone else.

“Hey.” Clark hugs him and that is all he wants at the moment, seriously. Bruce chuckles a little and holds him close. None of them knows exactly how it happens, but it does not take long before their lips meet in a kiss that tastes like fire. Bruce brings one hand to Clark’s hair and gently pulls so he can slip his tongue inside. Now they are both breathing heavily, their bodies eager to feel skin on skin.

Somehow Clark manages to separate their mouths. “Why aren’t you naked?” He asks in a low voice. Next he rips Bruce’s shirt open: buttons made of, _for fuck’s sake_ , actual mother of pearl scatter all over the floor. Clark starts to feel like the whole world is spinning faster and faster and he has to hold on for his dear life.

“I wanted to keep it civil for five goddamn minutes, but oh well…” Bruce tears Clark’s coat off, then grabs at his crotch. “Someone’s happy to see me.”

Clark’s knees buckle a bit. He was not fully aware just how turned on he was until this point. Bruce makes a step forward, forcing him to walk backwards. They end up on a leather couch. Clark is on his back with Bruce’s knee pressing against his groin. Wayne sucks the skin on his neck while unbuttoning his shirt, so slow and hot that Clark can feel his insides melting already.

“No, wait,” he says hoarsely. “Not like that.”

Bruce stops and looks at him like he is waiting for instructions.

“Take me to bed.”

“As you wish.” Bruce bites Clark’s lower lip. “Get up. I am not carrying you upstairs.”

“Your back is killing you, old man?”

“Why you little…” Bruce jerks Clark upwards and grips his chin tightly. “You want daddy to give it hard to you, don’t cha?”

“Yes.” Clark admits without thinking. They are kissing again, this time more urgent.

“First floor, second door on the right,” the billionaire says in a voice that will not stand any kind of protest. He puts one hand on Clark’s chest and pushes him gently towards the stairs. “Start taking your clothes off on your way.”

Clark smiles. It is flattering how much Bruce likes to watch him undress. He lets the shirt fall down on the floor and grabs the white tank top that he is wearing underneath. Bruce follows him slowly, like a predator observing his prey. Clark does not shy away from the eye contact as he makes his way to the stairs, stripping unhurriedly. As he hits the first step, he sits down to get rid of the bright blue jeans and the shoes. Bruce keeps the distance between them, hands in pockets, face calm. Only his rapid breathing betrays what is really going on with him.

Clark licks his lips and decides to move things forward. He is almost at the top of the stairs when he realizes that Bruce is not right after him.

“Not going to join me?”

“I will, don’t you worry,” Bruce says with a smirk. “I just love watching you walk away.”

Clark does not get it immediately but when he does, the faint blush on his cheeks turns crimson. Nonetheless he continues the walk, making sure to sway his hips just a little bit.

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” he says when Bruce finally pursues. “But I guess old perverts like you don’t care about trivialities such as good manners.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll be the one teaching you manners.”

Clark slides his underwear down, just enough to expose the tailbone. “Is that so?” The second door on the right is open. As he enters, Bruce is back on him again. Eager hands roam up and down Clark’s heated body.

“Get on your knees,” Wayne growls.

Clark obeys before his brain even has a chance to process what he is about to do. Bruce’s heavy cock feels good on his tongue – warm, veiny, making Clark hum in content.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” Bruce asks, caressing Clark’s face. “Will you act like a good boy from now on?”

“Yeah,” Clark murmurs. He wets the shaft and teases its crown with his thumb at the same time. Meanwhile Bruce takes his shirt off. Clark looks up at him and starts sucking, one hand gripped firmly at the base of Bruce’s cock and the other between his own legs. After a while, a streak of slobber runs down his chin. He stops to catch a breath as Bruce gently pats his hair. Encouraged, Clark slacks his jaw and swallows his entire length. A strained _oh god_ escapes from Wayne’s mouth. Clark’s nose is pressed against the other man’s pubic hair and it is so fucking odd but he feels completely at peace. He could do this for hours if it was not for Bruce’s insistent hand yanking at his hair. His cock leaves Clark’s mouth with an obscene pop.

“Get up,” Wayne orders.

On the bed, they kiss and tear the remaining clothes off each other. Finally both are blissfully naked, rubbing against each other with their chests and painfully hard dicks, skin on skin, atom to atom, gasp for gasp.

“Tell me what you want,” Bruce whispers right under Clark’s ear.

“Fuck me,” Clark moans, head spinning. Bruce teases his nipples now, licks and grates his teeth against the delicate flesh. Clark’s patience is wearing thin. “Do it now, please…”

For once Bruce does not say anything, just silently opens the bedside drawer. He pours something that looks like an essential oil onto his fingers.

“How are we going to do this, hmm?” Bruce asks as he prepares Clark. “Like this, on your back? Tell me baby, I know you were thinking about this the whole week.”

Well, he is not wrong on that one.

“Just fuck me!” Clark cries out. “I need it, and I want it hard, I want to you to come in my ass and ruin me…”

“What?” All of a sudden, Bruce has a serious look on his face. “What did you say?”

Clark pauses, scared that he has said too much. He did not really plan on sharing that little fantasy with Bruce, but since it is already out there…

“I’m clean, I swear on everything, but we don’t have to… I know it would be irresponsible but I’ve never let anyone fuck me like this before, I swear… But I won’t insist if you don’t want to, it’s alright…”

Clark ruined it. He just knows this. There is no denying the fact. Why could he not keep his mouth shut and just fucking enjoy it…

“Oh, _fuck.”_ For a second Bruce looks like he is _destroyed,_ but then he flips Clark over and slams into him like his entire life depends on it.

Clark makes the most embarrassing noise ever, something like a high-pitched squeak or a wheeze. Of course he knew that sex felt better without an extra layer of latex between the two bodies, yet he never wondered how does it feel like for the receiving party. The answer is _fucking incredible._ He turns his head so he can have a look at Bruce, who is focused on not coming like a teenager. Clark reaches for him with one hand. He manages to grab the other man’s hip, trying to guide him even deeper.

“If you could see your face now…” Bruce is smiling. Clark wants to smile as well but it looks like all of his muscles are lax, leaving him weak and fragile like a rag doll. Both of them gasp as Bruce starts to move, maddeningly slow at first but more confident with every roll of his hips. Clark grips the sheets and whines, mouth wide open, loving the sharp, delicious burn of every single thrust.

“No one fucked you like that?” Bruce’s voice sounds like it is coming from a place far, far away. “No one came inside that sweet, tight ass before?”

“No daddy,” Clark mewls pathetically. “You’re the first, you’re my first…”

Bruce moans and speeds up, balls deep in Clark’s hole.

“Do you want this, baby?”

“Yes!” Clark strokes his own cock frantically. “Please come in my ass!”

He takes advantage of the fact that Bruce is not looking at his face and uses the x-ray vision. There it is, the exact moment when Bruce’s cock explodes, emptying his balls, twitching and flooding Clark’s insides with hot cum…

Clark’s orgasm is like an out of body experience. When he comes back, he pants like a drowning man who just caught a lifebelt. Bruce is still behind him, chest dripping with sweat, mesmerized by the view of his cum leaking out from Clark’s stretched hole.

“That was good.” Clark croaks.

“Good?” Bruce lays on top of him. “I think that added three years to my lifespan.”

Clarks tries to laugh but does not really have the necessary energy. Bruce’s body is warm and heavy, pins him down to the mattress in a way that makes Clark feels safe.

Clark closes his eyes and listens to his lover’s steadying heartbeat. He wants to learn it and be able to hear it from every corner of the world.

Gotham is not so bad after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Judging by my outline for the rest of this series, we are slowly getting to the angsty part...


End file.
